The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1887-07-08
Thrialng Adventure.
A cATTLEMAN's NARROW ESCAPE FROM A
TERRIBLE PRAIRIE FIRE.


A few evening ago, says the ST.
Paul Globe, n party of Northwestern
cattlemen were grouped together in the
rotunda of the Merchants Hotel, when
one of the gentlemn said;
IA prairie fire with strong wind is
terrible thing. l have seen several,
but fortunately was ne> er close to but
one, and it was only by a streak of
good luck--or, perhaps, Providence
that escaped alive"
When the group had settled back for
the story the cattleman told this Incl
dent, which has romance enough in it
for the foundation of novel:
at was rs or '76. / don't remember
which" said the man. 81 was in part
nership in the cattle business with a
man whose name is immaterial with our
ranch III Indian Territory, below Medi-
cine Lodge We had shipped drove
of cattle to Kansas City, driving them
from the Territory to Wichita, Kan,
which was then the terminus of a
branch of the Atchison, Topeka S
Santa Fe road. The drive to Wichita
was rather disastrous to .he stock, the
grass along the route being poor and
water scarce. On the way home from
Kansas City it was decided that we
should continue on the main line of the
road to Hutchison, from which place l
would take horse and ride down TO
the Territory, while my partrer was to
go on to Dodge City, and also take a
horse for home. The object was to
find more desirable route on which
to drive our next herd of cattle in order
TO reach shipping point. According
ly l stopped at Hutchison, and before
going to bed was in possession of as
fine piece of horsefesh as you ever
laid your eyes on. The distance from
Hutchison to Medicine Lodge was
about ninety miles, which could be
reached by hard days ride. By day
light the next morning was in the
saddle and riding south. 1t will be re-
membered that at that time Kansas
was little settled west of the central
portion, especially off the line of two
railroads running east and west through
the State. Consequently my ride was
rather lonely one, the majority of the
living things to be seen being prairie
dogs, which would scamper to their
holes on my approach. Occasionally
would happen on a 'dug-o but
throughout the day I did not see a
solitary house. These dug-outs are
strange looking objects to persons un-
accustomed to them. Usually. they are
simply hole dug in the ground, few
poles laid across and prairie grass and
dirt thrown over the top. The only
redeeming feature about them Is that
they are cyclone proof. In some cases
a hole is cut in the side of hill, but
owing to the nature of the country
this form of habitation is scarce. The
day had been unusually warm, and !
had been riding rather slowly with a
view of pushing on faster when it had
become cooler. A breeze sprang up
from the south, and gave my horse a
tap to urge him on but not minding
the whip he started in a different di-
rection than the one which he had been
going. He appeared to be uneasy, but
/ supposed this was caused from thirst.
The sun had gone down, and the wind
was increasing, bringing with it faint
odor Of burning grass. AS it grew
dark l could see a fiickering of light at
distance, but thought nothing of it.
1t was not long, however, before l dis
covered the cause of the horses uneasi-
ness. Stretching from the right to left
apparently in semi circle, was streak
of fire, and at once realized that !
was in dangerous position.
There was no way to escape except
to turn back, and / was loath to dc
that. / stood still some time, unde.
cided what to do. 1t would be foolish
to think of trying to break through
this sweeping wall of fire. Turning
the horses head in the direction from
which we came | let him have the
reins. He needed no urging and GOV.
cred the ground in fine style. l looked
back and was dismayed to see that
even as fast as we we're going the fire
was gaining on US. Giving the horse
sharp cut with tie whip, he gave q
lunge forward, but fell, throwing me
over his head. He had stepped into a
prairie-dog's hole ard broken a leg
Seeing that he could go no further
drew my revolver and ended his life
The fire was now less than mile from
me, coming before terrible wind, the
flames le&ping high in the air. By the
light l could see small hill few hun
dred yards away, and my only hope
was to reach that, perhaps finding
shelter on the opposite side. / put
forth my best efforts, but before GOV
ering half the distance could hear the
roar Of the flames and feel the heat
while the smoke was suffocating. Max
ing a terrible effort kept to my fee
for few seconds more, and then con
sciousness left me. When / awoke il
was morning, and bending over me wai
young woman. Remembering wha
had passed through my first impress
ion was that / was dead and in-well
where we all want to go sometime
But l soon found my mistake, and dis
covered that was in a cave dug ir
the side of hill. In flying from thu
fire my last step had brought me tc
the door, and falling, had forced il
open. The young woman was in grea
distress, and told me that she feared
her husband had been caught in thu
prairie fire. She told me her history
very briefly, saying that she was al
orphan, had been married but shor
time, and came from the East with he
husband to make home. Her husband
had left her alone two days before
having gone to the nearest town, ant
she had expected him to return thu
evening before. Hastily eating wha
she had prepared we started in search
of the missing man. The scene was ;
desolate one, as far as the eye coulc
reach being sea of ashes. We haC
gone little over a mile when We founC
the charred remains of the woman
husband / left her watching owe
him while / hunted up a habitation
and, securing assistance, we buried hin
near where he died. | hired a man t.
take me to my ranch, where ! founc
my partner had arrived all right
4. Il n 4 i